It was a momentous day around our house. The mortgage had finally been paid off and I bought a $300 bottle of Scot ... OK, that's just wishful thinking.

No, it was actually a large day because our two-year-old was taking his first swimming lesson.

He was hyped, and so were we. The boy loves "fwimming."

At the pool, he can splash as big and as much as he wants, and no one raises their voice or says a word about soggy baseboards.

He also likes playing with the flutter boards, and you can only imagine how he might pronounce that.

I was a little apprehensive about the lesson, though.

He doesn't always listen to me, so I didn't think he'd obey a stranger.

My fear proved unwarranted once the lesson began.

The instructor, a girl in her late teens, told him to jump up and down. He did.

Make bubbles? He blew on the water as if he were blowing out birthday candles.

Splash, Daddy? With pleasure.

Jump off the side of the pool? OK, and I'll give Daddy a little kick in the beak on the way down.

Nose job aside, I was quite proud of the youngster and thrilled the lesson was going just swimmingly.

But I thought too soon.

The instructor led us into part of the pool with more water and boy went off the figurative deep end. He refused to do a single thing she said, and started bawling. Loudly. Real loudly.

I tried calming him down, but it was useless. He wanted no part of the deeper water, perhaps because he was no longer in control.

He kept screeching as I laid his tummy just under the surface and tried getting him to kick.

"Waaaaah," he said.

"Ssssshhhh," I replied.

"Waaaaaaaaaah," he countered.

"Sssssssshhhhhhhhh," I responded.

It was sounding like a political debate, and other parents and kids were staring at the boy who was crying louder than a Slayer concert.

I knew there was a good chance this could happen, so it didn't really faze me.

I tried being supportive and encouraging, because I wanted him to think of the pool as a place of fun.

But then his trunks came loose and his "burdie" - his word, not mine - was on full display.

Holding a screaming, exposed child in the middle of busy Saturday morning swimming lessons was not something I had prepared for.

But, surprisingly, I kept my composure and calmly floated him to the side of the pool, where I fixed his trunks.

He stopped crying, so I took him back to lesson.

Our time there lasted less than the amount of time it takes to switch the dial when certain Open Line callers come on.

The kid let loose with the loudest scream yet. Simultaneously, his trunks came off again.

As Shaggy the Great once said, "Zoinks!"

I devised an escape plan just in case he started doing number two in the pool with no trunks on.

My memories flashed back to the "Caddyshack" scene with the chocolate bar, I faked a laughed, and quickly sat him on the pool deck to fix those trunks again.

When that was done, we waded back to the kiddie pool and sat it out there for the remainder of the lesson.

The instructor came over when it ended and said, "It's hard at this age."

Yes, in fact it was so hard his mother can get in the water with him this Saturday.

Steve Bartlett screeched at his first swimming lesson, too. Thankfully his trunks didn't start falling off until he became an adult. Reach him via email at sbartlett@thetelegram.com or follow on Twitter at bartlett_steve.

HBG

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Quick question - 03/31/2015

A Corner Brook woman was upset recently when she had her seal skin purse confiscated by customs officials when entering the United States — she was unaware of a U.S. ban on seal product entering that country. Are you aware of the ban?